Ordinary
by OxOx-Megz-OxOx
Summary: "Why would you settle for someone so ordinary?" Sally finished, and Sherlock stared at her in disbelief. "Because to me, John Watson could never be ordinary." John/Sherlock. One-shot, but is part of a pair! Rated T just in case!


**Title: Ordinary**

**Pairing: John/Sherlock (established relationship)**

**Summary: "Why would you settle for someone so ordinary?" Sally finished, and Sherlock stared at her in disbelief. "Because to me, John Watson could never be _ordinary." _John/Sherlock. One-shot, but is part of a pair! Rated T just in case!**

**Status: Complete! :)**

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**Hey guys!**

**So . . . not really got any inspirational or emotion story as to where this idea came from, but oh well. I was just thinking one day how ordinary John seems compared to Sherlock, but then, how much Sherlock needs him anyway, and whatever, so yeah, the story will explain all. This is one of a pair, but you don't need to read them in any particular order.**

**Enjoy!**

**Megz**

**oxox**

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It was a cold December night, and snow covered the ground in thick blankets, as a small crowd of police officials gathered on a dark London street. The street was cordoned off with tape, and there were police cars everywhere. Sirens wailed, and people who lived nearby gathered nearby, whispering gossip and suspicions. In the middle of the road, lay the crumpled and beaten body of a man who lived across the road. He had not been moved from the spot that he had been found in, but the police had already set up their equipment around him. Crouching over the body, was John Watson. He was dressed in his usual attire, jeans, a jumper, but with a big coat to keep him warm. He had gloves on his hands, so he was free to examine the man, and had a box of medical supplies at his side, should they be necessary.

Watching from across the road, stood four people. Anderson, Sally, Sherlock and Lestrade. Anderson was also wearing rubber gloves, but was not actually doing anything that was of use to anyone, as per usual. Sally wore her full police uniform, and stood, sighing, with her arms crossed. Both Anderson and Sally were clearly bored, for it was a cold night, and they had already been there half an hour. Though, if they were being honest, they probably could have done a lot more to help. Lestrade stood with a note pad, trying to take as many notes of the crime as possible, and Sherlock stood quietly beside him. Normally, Sherlock would be running around the crime scene, trying to take in as much as he possibly could, but he had already figured out the entire crime in his head, the minute he'd gotten there. Now he was just waiting for John to prove him right.

As Sherlock stood watching John, he was suddenly aware of Anderson and Sally whispering next to him. If he hadn't been too busy watching John, Sherlock might have made a remark about the highly obvious fact that the two colleagues had been getting up to some very private activities earlier, which was probably the reason they were so bored. _You'd think they'd try and make it a little less obvious, _Sherlock thought to himself, as he ran over their appearances in his head; Anderson: New shirt, expensive, judging by the cuff links, and material. Pants carefully ironed, although crumpled at the knees, so they had already been taken off, then put back on again, quickly judging by the state of his belt. Small hint of lipstick on his neck, which matched the shade that Sally was wearing. Top two buttons undone, which was unusual, because Anderson always left just one button, which suggested his shirt was put back on quickly as well. Sally: Hair down, but had a slightly kink, suggesting it had been tied up before, then clumsily pulled loose. Lipstick slightly smudged, again, matching the shade on Anderson's neck. Tights ripped, from where they had been hastily put back on. Skirt crumpled, and nail varnish chipped, obviously from gripping a wall or more likely headboard too hard.

The whispering grew louder, snapping Sherlock out of his thoughts, and he turned to face them. "Problem?" he muttered, smirking proudly, something he wasn't even aware he was doing. Anderson and Sally stopped whispering, and faced Sherlock, looking slightly embarrassed, but it soon faded.

"It's just . . . " Sally began, causing Lestrade to put his notepad away, intrigued. Sherlock nodded impatiently for her to continue, and Sally straightened suddenly, finding her voice again. "Why him?" She looked at John, who was still examining the body, causing the whole group to look at him as well. Sherlock looked confused, unsure as to what they meant. He was about to ask for Sally to explain, when Anderson interrupted.

"It's no secret that . . . you're pretty much a genius," Anderson began, causing Sherlock's head to whip back round. Had Anderson just . . . _complimented _him? "Now, before you get all big headed about it, I still think you're a freak, but . . . you are a genius, nonetheless. We were just wondering . . . why would someone as smart as you . . . "

"Why would you settle for someone so ordinary?" Sally finished, and Sherlock stared at her in disbelief, his mouth actually hanging open. For once in his life, Sherlock Holmes was speechless. Clearly, Sally did not understand him and John _at all. _Then again, why would she? She didn't even understand Sherlock himself. Of all the things Sally had said to him over the years, all the insults, all of the snide comments, this was the one thing that _really _got to Sherlock. John . . . ordinary? Even the thought angered him. Clenching his fists, he replied tightly;

"Because, to me, John Watson could never be _ordinary." _he spat out the last word, as if it was the worst thing imaginable. He turned to look back at John, who was still examining the body. To Sherlock, John was just . . . he was perfect. Why anyone would think any different was a mystery to him. And out of everyone, what still amazed Sherlock, was that John had chosen _him._

Sally and Anderson just stared at him, obviously still not understanding. To Sherlock's annoyance, they were still wore the same ignorant looks on their faces as before. It didn't surprise him, though. They had never understood Sherlock and John's relationship, not many people did. Even fewer accepted it. But that had never mattered to Sherlock, other people's opinions had never mattered to him. It was _John _that he worried about. Sherlock constantly worried that John was too good for him, and one day he would just get tired of Sherlock and move on to someone else. Because John _could _move on. Sherlock didn't think he ever could. John Watson was, and always would be, the only person he would ever love with every _fibre_ of his being. Yet, he had no idea how to explain that to the two _morons _in front of him.

"But then, how could I expect you to _possibly _understand that?" Sherlock asked, and he could feel half of Scotland Yard watching him, in astonishment. "I did not _settle _for John Watson, in fact, I can hardly imagine ever loving anyone else, the way that I love him. He is _everything _to me. If it weren't for him, there are many times I probably would have died, sometimes even by my own fault. And not only has he saved me from death, but he has saved me from _myself. _Before I met John, I was a cold human being. Not even a human being at all, really. But . . . he showed me so much, he showed me what it meant to _love. _He is perfect to me in every way. He is patient, and kind. He'll always listen to me, no matter how self-centred and selfish I'm being. He always thinks about other people, and puts them first. He's funny, and enthusiastic, but level-headed and logical at the same time,

"And, by some miracle, he loves me too. There is no part of John Watson that is _ordinary _in any way, at least not to me. He is _everything. _But, like I said, the two of you could never understand that. You don't know what it's like, to love someone so much that you would literally do _anything _for them. You would go to the ends of the Earth just to see them smile, if you had to. You don't know what it's like to constantly live in fear that you're not good enough, or, that one day, you'll wake up, and it'll all be a dream. Or, the first time you tell them you love them, and you're so scared about what they're going to say, and what it will mean for your friendship. And you'll never understand that the hardest thing you'll ever have to do is leave them, even when it's for their own good. When, the only thing you can do to keep them alive is to make them think they're never going to see you again. And then, how much pain you're in, when you have to watch them be torn apart, day after day, for missing you. And there's nothing you can do about it, because, as soon as you step out of the shadows, you've as good as killed them. So no, I did not _settle _for John Watson."

Sherlock took along breath, his rant over, and he looked at the ground, biting his lip. He did not even want to think about how many of the Scotland Yard officers had heard that. He didn't care that they knew about him and John, but that was the first time he had ever _fully _voiced how he felt about John. Yes, they knew that they loved each other, but they had never gone into too much detail. John was too shy, and Sherlock had never really had any emotional experiences before John, at all. So the fact that he'd just practically shouted his feelings in front of a crowded street made the consulting detective a little nervous. As he looked back up at Anderson and Sally, he noticed that their expressions had changed entirely.

Sally looked sad. Her eyes were filling up with tears that she was trying to hide, and she had a sad, watery smile on her face. The kind a person has when they realize they've done something stupid. She was no longer standing next to Anderson, and had taken a few steps away, disgusted. It was obvious that she was now coming to terms with the fact that he was a married man, and that he didn't _really _love her at all. Hearing Sherlock's story had opened her eyes to what _real _love was. And it made her feel sick. Sick that she had wasted so much of her time on _Anderson, _of all people. Anderson himself wasn't saying anything either, but didn't look at all effected by Sherlock's story. In fact, he wasn't even _looking _at Sherlock himself, and was staring right past his shoulder. Sherlock was about to get very angry again, when he turned to see what Anderson was looking at.

"Oh you brilliant, but _stupid, stupid _man."

Before Sherlock could even respond, John's lips were on his. Not that he was complaining, of course. Suddenly, neither of the men cared that an entire street of people were watching them in amazement, all that mattered was the two of them. Sherlock brought his hands up to John's face, trying to pull him closer. He didn't think he could _ever _be close enough to John. Kissing him was like a rush, and Sherlock could feel it in his veins. Kissing John was his addiction, and something that, for once, Sherlock would never get bored of. John grabbed fistfuls of Sherlock's coat, bringing their bodies even closer together.

When they finally pulled back for breath, Sherlock heard the sound of Sally's hand colliding with Anderson's face. Well _that_ was about time. John rested his forehead on Sherlock's, and smiled up at him, one of the widest smiles Sherlock had ever seen on the older man's face.

"Shall we get out of here?" Sherlock whispered, piercing John's eyes with his own.

"Oh God, yes."

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**So? Review please, and let me know if you want to read the other one, which should be up soon!**


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